I know, I'm supposed to be on hiatus...I just couldn't wait to put out this chapter. I don't want to be on hiatus anymore, so I think I won't be and will just put out chapters as I finish them!
Chapter 18-Confessions
It had been a little over ten years since Erik stepped foot in a church and if not for Christine, he would have made it a lifetime. He knew that she would want to be married in a house of her god and he had prepared himself to submit to such a request, but the unease he felt standing at the altar with the overbearing presence of Father Carriere looming over him was nearly enough to send him fleeing. But, he couldn't. He had to stay exactly where he was if he had any hope of marrying the woman he had been dreaming of for years.
Erik allowed his eyes to wander from the marble steps he stood upon, hoping that becoming more familiar with his surroundings would make him feel less apprehensive. The vaulting of the ceiling was rather appealing, certainly the man who designed the church had a keen eye for detail. Though, as he examined the clerestory, he lost all respect for the man. It was all wrong, every bit of it. The windows were far from evenly spaced and off kilter and the point where it met the vaulting was too narrow. He would never have overlooked such a mistake; it was monstrous.
Before he could become physically ill, he turned his attention elsewhere. As he was skimming the arching surrounding the nave, his attention was pulled to a small structure built into the far left wall.
It was that damned confessional booth! The same one he sat in when he returned from Persia. The same one where he lost all his faith in a god. He had forgotten about it; forgotten the priest who had turned him away and told him he was a monster who didn't deserve forgiveness.
In his peripherals, Erik noticed the watchful eye of Father Carriere. He could see the priest open his mouth and he braced himself for a conversation that he was sure to be agonizing.
"Have you ever been in confessions?" Father Carriere asked, gesturing towards the booth.
Erik peeked at him out of the corner of his eye and nodded solemnly. He had to admit, he was slightly annoyed at the striking of a conversation, but he knew that if he wanted to please Christine, he needed to be more sociable. "Once, long ago. That very booth. I can't say I was fond of it. I was asked to leave before–" he stopped and worried if he had said too much. If he were thrown out before he could marry Christine, he would be devastated.
The priest smiled and started down the steps. Erik watched him, wondering what the man was doing as Christine would surely arrive at any moment.
"Forgive me, I must ask, was it with Father Garnier?" the priest questioned as he moved towards the booth.
The name boiled Erik's blood and he had to bite back a scowl before replying, "Unfortunately, yes."
That blasphemous fool. If he hadn't passed away mere days after he threw him out on the streets–
No, he told himself, you promised Christine that you would behave.
He shook the image of Father Garnier strung up in the streets from his mind and turned his attention back to the living priest who was standing next to the booth.
"Cranky old man, if you ask me. I recall him telling me of a particular masked man who asked for confessions…" Father Carriere trailed off, mumbling the rest of his speech while opening the door to one side of the cabinet.
Erik narrowed his eyes, curious as to what game the priest was playing at. Surely the man had to be scared of Erik. After all, he hadn't been gentle with Father Garnier before he stormed off to seclude himself below the Opera Populaire for good.
"He asked me to leave before I had a chance to finish. There is no redemption for me in the eyes of your god, he said so himself. My faith has since been lost." Erik had a sinking feeling that the priest was going to coerce him into a confession and he had no interest in trying again. The outcome would only be the same.
Father Carriere glanced over his shoulder towards Erik. "Yet, here you stand; in a church preparing to marry a woman of God."
Erik narrowed his eyes again and took a step forward. "How is her faith relevant?"
"I do apologize, I only wish to be of assistance. Perhaps you would like to try again?" The priest opened the other side of the booth and looked at Erik expectantly.
"No," he said bluntly. He had no interest in confessing his sins to an entity that cared so little for him.
The priest sighed dramatically, something that annoyed Erik more than he cared to admit. "Carrying sin with you into a marriage can be disastrous."
"No," Erik insisted again, but the thought that being free of sin tempted him in a strange way. He wondered if it would make Christine happy if he did this for her.
"It wouldn't cause any harm to enter matrimony free of sin, besides, it could be a while before your bride emerges."
Erik pondered the idea for a moment longer. Surely whether there was a god or not, it wouldn't hurt to attempt to relinquish himself of sin.
"You won't force me to leave once you hear what I've done? Is everything said kept confidential?" Erik asked as he slowly stepped towards the open door.
"I would be breaking my vows if I did and yes, everything is confidential." Father Carriere stepped into the booth and Erik could have sworn he saw a grin stretch across his face as he did so.
He couldn't help but feel as if he were being dragged to meet his death. He stared at the open bench that waited for him and he instinctively took a step back when he recollected, once again, the last time he sat on the bench. He felt the urge to turn and run but his feet were stuck in place just outside the threshold of the door.
Suddenly, he heard echoing laughter that resonated through the church. It was Christine's laughter.
The thought of how happy she would be marrying a man free of sin gave Erik the strength to move forward. With two simple steps, he was inside the small space and sitting on the creaky bench.
"I will do it," he murmured to the silhouette behind the screen. All he received in response was a nod.
Erik took a deep breath and performed the mindless ritual of moving his hand across his body in the sign of a cross as it was appropriate for such occasions. Then, he stayed silent. He knew the words. They were burned into his soul from the last time he sat in the confined space, but his throat was dry and his lips were trembling as he attempted to move his mouth to form audible speech.
"Do you need–" the priest started, his shadow leaning forward slightly.
"No, I know what to do, I'm just–" Erik sighed and took another deep breath. He felt relief that he had found his voice and finally, he spoke the dreadful words. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was ten years ago and these are my sins."
Erik hesitantly revealed each of his sins, starting with the murder of the gypsy that held him captive before moving on to his time in Persia. It had been Persia that set Father Garnier into a fit of rage, so Erik waited for the booming voice of judgment from behind the screen but it was silent with the exception of his own voice. Instead, Erik felt heard for the first time apart from when he revealed his past transgressions to Christine. The man on the other side of the screen offered nothing but the occasional nod of his head or a sound as if he had come to an epiphany.
Hot tears streamed down Erik's face as he moved onto the sins he committed towards Christine and he had to remove his mask as it was slipping off due to the flood falling between his skin and the porcelain. For a moment, he worried that he could be seen, but he remembered the screen and knew that it hid the monstrosity.
As Erik choked out his last sin, his head fell into his free hand and he sobbed violently. He had reached his precipice and feared that another word would send him tumbling farther into Hell, but he knew he had to say one last thing to finish his confession so he braced himself for death and spoke softly, "That is all I remember, Father."
But he didn't die. Instead he felt relieved, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his body and he inhaled sharply as he frantically wiped his tears from his cheeks. A shudder wracked through him as he released the breath and he cleared his throat of the build up of phlegm. He had done it; he had truly made it through an entire confession and he didn't burst into flames.
The only thing that was cause for concern was the uncomfortable silence that fell over the booth. Erik sat up to study Father Carriere through the screen, waiting for what he was sure was a delayed reaction of horror. The shape sat unmoving, almost as if he was dead and Erik felt as if a dagger had pierced his heart.
It had been a mistake agreeing to confessions. His sins were too great to be forgiven by a god. But, Christine had forgiven him, wasn't that enough? He felt that it should have been but the idea of repeated rejection from the god she worshiped so adamantly formed a lump in his throat and he struggled to breath properly as another barrage of tears swept over him.
You don't deserve her, he heard faintly in the back of his mind.
He couldn't argue; he didn't deserve Christine. She was greater than any god, greater even than the god she was faithful to and Erik was soiling her with his sins.
"I–I can't marry her, Father. For her sake, she should forget me and find a man who can give her what I can't," he whispered, breaking the grim silence.
Father Carriere finally spoke, "And what is it that you can't give to her?"
"What she deserves," he said solemnly.
"And what is it that she deserves?"
"Happiness," he replied simply, not wanting to stretch the topic any further. Instead he was preparing himself to run and never look back. To disappear and leave Christine so she could be happy with a man who would give her the world.
As he stood to flee, he heard a soft voice, "Do you not deserve happiness?"
Erik stopped with one foot outside the booth processing what the priest had said. Did a monster truly deserve any sort of happiness? Did he deserve it? He had tasted it with Christine, but he would hardly say it was merited.
"What do you mean? I'm a monstrosity with more sins than can be forgiven," Erik mumbled, moving back to sit on the bench. He was morbidly curious to hear what the priest had to say.
"Every creature of God is warranted happiness and as for your sins, He has forgiven you," Father Carriere assured him.
Erik wanted to speak but he couldn't due to the onslaught of tears that came over him. To finally hear the words he had seeked out more than ten years prior was a solace he didn't know he needed. The effect they had on him was overtly embarrassing and he groaned as he wiped his tears away.
"It seems your driving force is Christine, am I correct?" the priest asked.
Erik nodded, "Yes, and without her, I would simply cease to exist. She is my muse, my life's essence. I love her more than the air I breathe, more than the music that had been my only reason for living before coming to know her."
"You say you love her but were going to abandon her just a moment ago, is this also correct?" the priest's voice came through the screen.
"I was not abandon–" Erik stopped when the full realization that he had nearly done just that hit him. He had started the motions to flee and leave Christine waiting for him, to leave the one thing that kept him mostly sane and he didn't once consider how she would feel. "It seems I may have nearly done so, doesn't it? But what am I to do? When I told her of my sins, she forgave me instantly. How am I in deservance of that? I made a promise to be better for her, to never let blood fall on my hands again, yet I feel as if I am still falling short in some way."
"Have you made that promise to yourself?"
"Why would I do that?" Erik hissed. Never in his life had he promised himself something, apart from Christine that is.
"I always say, the first step of self-forgiveness is recognizing how you hurt your own well-being in the process of committing your sins. Christine and God may have forgiven you, but sometimes, that's not enough."
Erik leaned back against the wall of the booth, contemplating what the priest had said. Had he harmed himself? He didn't feel harmed, at least not in a physical sense. If he were to make himself a promise, would it also be beneficial to Christine? He opened his mouth to speak but closed it knowing the question was contradictory to how he was supposed to be thinking.
After a minute or so, he spoke, "Alright, you have convinced me. After all, there is no harm in it. I promise to never cause any suffering on another living soul–to myself, of course. Now, if you will excuse me, I have an altar that I must return to, lest my bride may think I have forsaken her."
The priest chuckled, "Of course and remember, God has a path for everyone. Even if there are obstacles, you are meant to be exactly where you are at every moment of your life."
Erik thought about it for a moment and smiled. If the sentiment was true, then he belonged with Christine and that was all the reassurance he needed to know he was making the right decision to return to the altar.
xXx
After what felt like an eternity, Erik heard a door creaking open and his gaze shot towards the source. He let out a disappointed sigh when he saw that it was only Meg. Christine had taken nearly an hour to prepare and besides his confession, he had been standing in silence with Father Carriere.
Meg bounded up to him, a look of pure unadulterated joy on her face, and spoke urgently, "She is ready! Now, close your eyes or you will ruin everything!"
Erik's eyes widened and he stared down at the girl who had nearly screamed a command at him. He had to admit that it was odd to see her so demanding when she had been so frightened of him for years. Perhaps his overbearing cynical presence he worked so hard to achieve had worn off. Or, she had truly heard his conversation with her mother and didn't see him as terrifying any longer. Whatever the case, he didn't want to wait to see Christine any longer so, without a word, he faced away from the door and obeyed, clasping his hands in front of himself.
With his eyes closed, he did his best to listen to the sounds around him. It was very quiet in the large church and he heard everything. The sounds of footsteps and rustling fabric filled his ears and he smiled when he heard Christine's heavy breaths. Her scent encased him and he knew that if he wasn't so determined to marry her right then and there, he would have fainted from the intoxicating fumes of her lavender soap.
Every bit of his being urged him to open his eyes, to gaze upon his bride, but he didn't want to disappoint Christine. His only hope was to send a plea to whatever force would be able to grant it and ask for the strength to keep his eyes shut.
It felt like a lifetime, but finally, he heard the voice of his bride, "You may open your eyes."
He immediately obeyed and was met with the most astoundingly beautiful sight he had ever seen in his lifetime. Christine stood before him in a shockingly white gown, paler even than her fair skin tone. The skirts were large, much like her dress from the gala night of Hannibal, and her narrow shoulders were exposed as the fabric draped down and rested on her upper arm. He wanted to remark that white was virginal, and well, she was hardly a virgin, but he decided to save the observation for later.
He was careful not to linger on the bodice as he hardly had the self-control not to become aroused by just looking at her waist and breasts. However, he did notice that one of her hands was held in a fist, as if she were clutching something in her palm.
After staring at the clenched fist for a moment, he moved his gaze directly to her veiled face. His eyes connected with hers through the thin gossamer and he nearly lost himself completely. She was staring at him with complete adoration with her wide brown eyes and he could hardly help the few tears that slipped down his unmasked cheek.
He quickly swept them away and let out a heavy breath. "You look absolutely enchanting, my love," he whispered, reaching his hand out to take the one she didn't have balled into a fist. He bowed his head, lifting her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "The man who is to marry you would be a fool if he didn't fall to your feet and worship you."
Just as he had hoped, her cheeks flushed under the veil and she peeked up at him through her lashes. "I believe he already does."
Erik grinned and turned to Father Carriere who stood waiting patiently just a few feet away. The priest immediately stepped forward and spoke, "Is everyone prepared? Shall we start?"
"Yes, Father," Christine spoke softly, slowly removing her hand from Erik's.
He was disappointed at the loss of touch, but knew the faster they were married, the sooner he would be able to be alone with her. He quickly glanced to the side to see his two solitary guests sitting on the church benches, both faces filled with joy. Then, he looked back at Christine who was looking down at her clenched fist. His curiosity was growing and he wanted to ask what she held, but he didn't want to ruin the moment so he straightened himself and nodded to Father Carriere.
"Then we will start," the priest said, opening the bible he held in his hands. "Dearly beloved, you have come together into the house of the church, so that in the presence of the church's minister and the community, your intention to enter into marriage may be strengthened by the Lord with a sacred seal.
"Erik Destler and Christine Daae, have you come here to enter into marriage without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly?" Father Carriere asked, looking between the both of them.
"I have," Erik whispered and Christine followed immediately.
"Since it is your intention to enter the covenant of Holy Matrimony, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church," the priest turned towards Erik, "Repeat after me."
Erik gave a single nod while taking up Christine's right hand into his own. It was trembling, so he ran slow circles over the top of it with his thumb in an attempt to soothe her. Part of him worried if she was regretting her decision to marry him, but if she was, she wouldn't have met him at the altar.
With her hand back in his, he felt more relaxed and confident to recite his marital vows, so he mirrored the words of Father Carriere with practiced precision. After all, he already knew exactly what to say as he had recited the words nearly a hundred times when imaging their wedding. "I, Erik Destler, take you, Christine Daae, to be my wife. I promise to be faithful to you, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love you and to honor you all the days of my life."
He made sure that his eyes held her attention as he swore himself to her and judging by the increased heaving of her chest combined with the tears wavering on her waterline, he was sure his promise didn't fall on deaf ears. His heart felt lighter than ever when she recited the words back to him at the priest's instruction.
"I, Christine Daae, take you, Erik Destler, to be my husband. I promise to be faithful to you, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love you and to honor you all the days of my life." Her voice was confident, even more so than his had been and he couldn't help the wide grin that formed on his lips. She was nearly his. Just a few more words and she would be declared his bride and he could kiss her!
Father Carriere continued his nuptials, "It is time for the blessing of the rings." He held out his hand, palm up and ready to receive the rings. Erik's heart was suddenly heavy and he realized that he had forgotten to obtain a ring for himself. How was he to enter into matrimony with Christine without a ring?
Before he could open his mouth to say something, Christine unclenched her fist and dropped two rings into Father Carriere's awaiting hand. One was the engagement ring he had given her and the other was a simple golden band. His eyes shot to her face and she smiled at him sheepishly. Where she had obtained the ring was a mystery to him, but he wouldn't question it until they returned home as he didn't want to delay their marriage any longer.
The priest tucked his bible into the crook of his arm and pulled a small vial of holy water from the pocket of his robes and sprinkled some of the liquid over the rings. "May the Lord bless these rings, which you will give to each other as the sign of your love and fidelity." He handed the opal ring to Erik and the gold band to Christine.
Erik took the delicate sentiment in between his fingers and some lingering holy water came in contact with his skin. Part of him had expected it to burn his flesh upon contact, but it did nothing of the sort. Perhaps he wasn't the child of the devil after all.
Still taking unneeded instructions, Erik spoke in a whisper, "Christine Daae, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the father, and the son, and the holy spirit." He took up her hand and carefully slid the ring back where it belonged before bending down to place a lingering kiss on it. His gaze was fixated on her face as he did so and he heard a quiet stutter in her breathing which made him smile against her skin. He returned to an upright position and released her hand so she could bestow him with a ring.
Christine took the gold band between her fingers and lifted his left hand to slip the ring into place. He observed her as she did so and noticed the relieved smile as she admired the gift she had given him. It was the fourth gift he had ever received from her. "Erik Destler, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the father, and the son, and the holy spirit." She tightened her hold on his hand and returned his intense stare. Her eyes were bright with excitement and she no longer trembled, which made him more than pleased.
Then, Father Carriere spoke the words Erik had been waiting for. "In the sight of God and these witnesses, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride."
Erik swallowed hard and reached up to lift the white veil to reveal Christine's face. One kiss…just one kiss and she was his for the rest of eternity. He laid the veil atop her head and trailed his fingers down the sides of her face until they rested on her cheeks. She tilted her head automatically and he noticed that she stretched up on her toes. Not wanting to keep her waiting any longer, he bent down and placed his lips gently on hers.
Christine hooked her arms around his neck, pulling him closer and locking him into place. She kissed him hard and it ignited a primal urge within him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her from the floor so they could meld together. Her tongue delved into his mouth and he tasted everything. Every emotion, every perfect moment, and every promise. He consumed them as he claimed her as his wife and when he broke away from her, he found himself nearly overcome with euphoria.
Several tears fell down his cheek and she swiftly wiped them away. "I love you," she whispered, running her fingers along his jawline and staring at him with those lovely eyes.
"I love you," he repeated before claiming her mouth once more. He kissed her more fervently and couldn't help the moan that escaped him. His only hope was that no one had heard it. He wasn't in need of any more embarrassment than what had already fallen on him in the past day.
The mesmerizing spell of Christine's kiss was broken by the clearing of a throat and Erik looked around to find the source. His eyes landed on Madame Giry who was rising from her seat. The corner of her mouth was twitching, almost as if she were holding back a smirk. Meg was still sitting on the bench, tears falling down her cheeks as she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.
Father Carriere closed his bible, bringing Erik's attention back towards him. He clasped his hands together as if praying. "May you glorify the Lord with your life." After giving a nod of approval to Erik, he turned away to busy himself with some papers on a nearby table.
Erik gently lowered Christine back onto the floor before turning his attention towards the approaching Madame Giry. "Thank you both for attending," he said softly, hoping any tremble in his voice wasn't noticeable. He was married, as strange as it sounded for a man like him, but he was and to the most exquisite creature he had ever laid his eyes on.
"We are honored that you allowed us to join you. Congratulations to you both. Unfortunately, we can't have a traditional dinner, but no matter, we will make it up in the future," Madame Giry said as she took Christine's hands in her own. "Let us sign the marriage register and you can be on your way."
Erik watched Christine carefully as she signed the register with an unsteady hand, then she passed him the pen and he signed his name under her familiar scrawl. It was endearing to know his new wife had such beautiful penmanship unlike his own. No matter how many letters he had written in his lifetime, he couldn't perfect his script. He was at least thankful it was legible when it mattered.
After he had finished signing his name, he turned to Christine, who was admiring him intently. He could see that she was shivering so he shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders to ensure she wouldn't freeze to death. He would not become a widow mere minutes after marriage.
"I'm not cold, but thank you, my husband," she whispered with a spirited smile. The sentiment made Erik's heart leap out of his chest and he returned her smile while offering her his arm.
"Allow me to take you home, my wife," Erik suggested. He couldn't wait a moment longer to be alone with her. The self-control he had established when he first caught sight of her in her wedding gown was slowly diminishing.
Christine nodded and gripped the crook of his arm. "Yes, please."
Erik glanced over his shoulder when he heard the creaking of a door again and saw Meg emerging from the room they had used to dress Christine. The girl clutched a bag in her hand and wore a mischievous smile. She all but sprinted towards Christine and shoved the bag into her hand.
Meg glanced at Erik, then leaned in to speak in Christine's ear causing a rosy blush to blossom across his wife's cheeks and neck. He only heard a hushed whisper and wondered what secret would make her so embarrassed. A smirk passed his lips when he imagined that it was in regards to their inevitable pairing and silently mused that he had already had her numerous times. Of course, it was their wedding night, so he surmised that everyone in the room knew what activities they would partake in upon their return home. It would be a lie if he said it didn't disturb him in the slightest, but he couldn't find any part of himself that cared in the moment. All he wanted to think of was Christine. His wife.
He observed her as she replied to Meg's whisper. If he wasn't mistaken, he could have sworn he heard a "thank you". Did Christine need assistance with something and had decided to ask Meg instead of him? His eyes flickered to the bag and determined that Meg fetching it for Christine was what she was thankful for.
Meg released his wife's hand and scampered off towards her mother who stood speaking with Father Carriere. Madame Giry raised her gaze from the bible in his hands to acknowledge her daughter, then she looked at Erik.
"Go on home, you two, I know Christine must be freezing. I can see her shivering from here," she said, before turning her attention back to Father Carriere.
Erik placed his hand atop Christine's one in the crook of his arm and turned her towards the exit of the church. She was shivering, though her hand was warm so he wondered if the source was due to her nerves. Surely there was no reason to be nervous…not anymore.
xXx
The walk through the narrow tunnel was mostly silent. All Erik heard was Christine's heavy breathing and the skirts of her dress sliding along the stone walls. They were only a few feet away from the mirror so he extinguished his torch and allowed it to drop to the ground before turning on Christine so he could pull her into his arms. It was difficult working around the large skirts and crinoline she wore, but he was able to cradle her against his chest after a few adjustments.
"What are you doing?" she asked as he continued walking.
Erik chuckled. "It's traditional for a husband to carry his wife into their home after being wed, is it not?"
Christine blushed and laid her head against his chest, whispering, "Yes, my love."
He stepped through the mirror, being careful so as not to hit her head and captured her lips with his own. She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck as he continued towards the bedroom. He set her down near the bed and held her back by her shoulders so he could drink her in without the worry of becoming aroused in an inappropriate setting.
"Do you understand how difficult it was for me to not take you right there at the altar? The sight of you in this gown will forever be the most appealing thing I have ever had the pleasure of viewing," he breathed as he trailed his fingers down to her bodice.
"I knew you would like it. Now, will you assist me out of it? I have to use the washroom." She turned away from him and he let out a breathy laugh as he started working on the laces along the back of her dress. He expertly loosened each one and helped her shimmy the dress off of her and onto the floor. She stood only in her chemise and pantalettes and Erik felt his arousal stirring at the thought of removing the rest of her clothing and indulging himself in her body. But, no he had to allow her to use the washroom as she said.
He took a step back to ensure control over himself. "I will fetch us some champagne to celebrate. I had Madame Giry purchase a bottle today. I hope you don't mind."
Christine picked up the bag that had somehow landed on the bed and shook her head. "Champagne sounds wonderful, thank you."
Erik said nothing in reply and headed to the kitchen to grab the bottle he had stashed away in his ice box and two tea cups. He never drank champagne so he never saw the use of purchasing any champagne flutes, so the tea cups would have to suffice. He uncorked the bottle and returned to the bedroom where he placed the two cups on the bedside table and filled them until the foam reached the rims.
He set the bottle down and started divesting himself of most of his clothing, including his mask and wig, leaving only his dress shirt and trousers as he knew Christine enjoyed removing them herself. Afterwards, he sat on the edge of the mattress and waited for her to return.
Erik absently twisted the ring on his finger while waiting for Christine to return to him. He stared at the gold curtain that covered the entryway into the washroom and listened intently for any indication of what was taking her so long. It had been ten full minutes since she disappeared behind the curtain and he was starting to wonder if she had hurt herself by accident. Just as he was rising to check on her, he heard a sharp intake of breath and the curtain was pushed to the side.
In an instant, Erik felt his entire soul leave his body and he was certain he had perished and gone to Heaven. An angel stood before him, clad in a white lace sleeping gown and sheer robe. It was an outfit he had never seen before. He recalled every article of clothing he had ordered for her and if he had any inkling of such a fine garment, he would have requested she wear it sooner. She had to have obtained it some other way, perhaps–
It was in the bag and suddenly the hushed whispers exchanged between friends made sense to him. She had planned to surprise him with the gown.
His eyes greedily pored over her body, taking in every curve that the fabric clung to and every bit of exposed skin. He moved lower, grazing over her thinly veiled thighs, thankful that the sleeping gown didn't drop to her ankles like most others. Instead, the fabric nestled into the natural curve of the crease in her thighs and created a V up to her hip bones. It was an oddity he had never seen before, yet, he found it positively mesmerizing. A new style in Paris fashion, perhaps?
Erik dared to trail his eyes farther down, catching sight of the lace hem of her stockings which were held in place by satin garters tied into large bows. His goal was her feet and when he finally saw them, he nearly fainted. He could see her perfect toes beneath the thin material. It was the ideal way to present such gifts and he was impatient to divulge himself in the offering.
He swiftly moved his eyes up to her face to see that she was watching him with the same expression as she had been when she came to him completely naked at his organ. Her parted lips were wet and trembling and her cheeks were flushed. The breaths she took were deep and made her chest swell.
Erik cleared his throat and adjusted himself as he had grown painfully hard just viewing her in her state of dress. "You look divine, Madame Destler," he whispered, trying to control the obvious tremor in his voice. "Wherever did you get such a tasteful gown?"
A timid smile formed on her lips and she looked down at her feet while tucking her hair behind her ear. "Meg bought it for me today."
"I would give my thanks to your friend, but I believe it would be highly inappropriate of me to do so," he breathed as he slowly stood from the bed and crossed to stand before her. "I do believe that I stand corrected, my love."
Christine peered up at him and her blush deepened. "What is it that has been corrected?"
He cupped her cheek in his hand and ran his thumb over her smooth skin. "This is by far, the most appealing sight I have ever seen."
She bit her lip and looked away from him. "You flatter me as always."
Erik slipped two fingers under her chin and tilted her face up to his. "I speak only the truth, my wife," he whispered as he placed his lips against hers. She responded quickly, wrapping her arms around his waist and tugging him closer.
But then she stopped and glanced at the cups he had filled. "Are we going to have champagne now?"
"If that's what you wish." In truth, he had completely forgotten about the champagne once he saw her in her sleeping gown. He was disappointed to know it was going to take longer than necessary to unwrap his gift, but he considered himself a lucky man just to be able to view such a delicacy.
He watched closely as she moved towards the cups, especially the sway of her hips. An uncontrollable groan fell from his lips when he caught sight of her bottom through the sheer fabric of the robe. The same V shape that laid on her front was mirrored in the back and he wanted so badly to move behind her and take the exposed skin into his hands, but he needed to be patient as his Christine wanted champagne.
His heart clenched when she bent over slightly, exposing the narrow strip of fabric that covered her most intimate area. She was only grabbing the cups of champagne so there was no need to bend over, but she did! Right in front of him! She was teasing him again, drawing out his pain just as she had done the previous night. Oh, but he could be patient. He had proven he was well capable of doing so.
Christine returned to him with the two cups and handed one to him as she started sipping on her own, then she sat on the bed. She leaned back on her elbow, fluffing her robe around her and Erik caught her scent. It was her lavender soap again, and it nearly made him go feral.
Behave, you madman, he scolded as he moved to settle in next to her. He noticed her drink was already nearly gone, so he reached over her, careful not to brush against any exposed skin and grabbed the bottle to refill her cup.
Christine said nothing, just stared at him with darkened eyes and a flushed face. It was almost as if she was waiting for him to say something, but he was finding it difficult to think of anything other than that damn robe.
A silence fell over them as they drank nearly the entire bottle of champagne. Erik didn't drop his gaze from Christine's face once, not even to fill the cups. Finally, once she was on her fourth cup, she started laughing, breaking the silence. He felt relieved that he wasn't being forced to do so, but was worried that he was the reason she was laughing.
"I had a dream about you," she stated before bringing the cup to her lips. Her face was even more flushed, most likely from the champagne.
"A dream? When did it occur?" He was curious, as she rarely spoke of her dreams.
Christine dropped her eyes from his and bit her lip while giggling. "A while ago. When I was reading in the front garden."
Erik leaned over her to set his empty cup on the bedside table and remembered when he had woken her up when she had fallen asleep outside. It had been a nightmare then, after all, she was panting and covered in sweat…he paused as the cup connected with the table. Was it a nightmare? She didn't say it wasn't, though when he had asked she became flustered and didn't want to speak about it.
"Was it not a nightmare?" he asked, moving to lay back on his elbow to match her lounged posture.
"If I tell you, do you promise not to pick fun at me?"
Erik nodded and ran his hand down her veiled arm eliciting a shiver from his bride. "I promise."
"Alright." She leaned in slightly as if she was going to tell a secret, and whispered, "You were making love to me."
He froze, his fingers lingering on her elbow, now fully understanding why she was so embarrassed when he woke her. It had been before she confessed her love to him and the same day he had caught her pleasuring herself. Perhaps her dream had aroused her to a point of needing satisfaction. But was it better than what he was able to give her in terms of pleasure?
"Tell me about it. Did I live up to this dream Erik?"
"I thought it was real at first. I was in my bed at the cottage and you were–" she stopped and looked down at the sheets between them.
"What was I doing?" His voice was deep and he could feel the rumble in his chest as he spoke.
"You were–oh I can't say it," she groaned as she turned onto her stomach and buried her face into the coverlet. "It's too embarrassing."
Erik ran his hand down her back, delving further down until he reached her bottom. He rested on her gossamer shielded skin and couldn't help giving it a gentle squeeze. It was firm and he had to stifle a groan. "Please, my love, please tell me."
She peeked at him from beneath the curtain of brown ringlets as she moved closer to him. Her body pressed into his and he dug his fingers into the flesh of her bottom to pull her against him. The cold skin of her thigh pushed against his exposed abdomen as she settled further into his arms. His breath caught in his throat and every bit of control he had built dissipated instantly.
With an exasperated grunt, he grabbed her teacup and threw it to the floor. It shattered but he didn't care as he had plenty more in the kitchen. The only thing he cared about was worshiping her.
"Tell me about your dream. I command it," he grumbled as he pushed her onto her back and settled between her thighs. His teeth found the skin below her jawline and he bit as hard as he knew she liked while thrusting his hips into her center.
"It was wonderful and perfect!" she cried. Her legs wrapped around his waist and she bucked her hips wildly. "You were kissing me and I felt as if I was going to die!"
Erik pulled away from her neck and propped himself on his elbows. He suppressed a laugh and stared down at her desperate face. "Kissing? I kiss you all the time, my love, how was your dream different from this?"
He pressed his lips against her cheek and planted light kisses across her skin until he reached her mouth where he kissed her deeply, giving her exactly what she dreamed about. The tartness of the champagne still lingered in her mouth and he found it erotic to think that she could taste the same from him.
Suddenly, Christine pushed him upwards and held him away from her. "It wasn't that kind of kiss," was all she said.
Erik's eyes widened at the implication of what she had said. Surely she didn't mean it, after all, she wouldn't want his face between her thighs. He had to be misunderstanding her, it was the only answer that made any sense!
"Then where was I kissing you?" he rasped all the while trying to keep himself steady. His body was trembling at just the thought of tasting her.
Christine turned her face away from him and he saw her reddened cheeks deepen in color. Wordlessly, she trailed her hand down her body, past her breasts and abdomen. Erik followed the path and was shocked to see her stop once she reached her sex.
His gaze shot up to her face, which was now angled back towards him. "You can't mean it. You would want me–you would permit me to do it?" He stumbled over his words, his voice nearly failing him as he tried to process the confirmation of her desires.
"Yes," she whispered as she pulled him down into another kiss.
/
Ya'll know what's coming next right? Also, thank you to everyone who has come along with me during this journey. I know my writing isn't always the best, but I'm having fun telling this story. It's an uphill climb from here with a HUGE finale, so I hope you will all stay for the end. I love each and every one of you. Also, also, now officially halfway through! 18/36 chapters posted!
Much love...